


Checked

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-26 22:13:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21656305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Mairon introduces Melkor to proper chess.
Relationships: Morgoth Bauglir | Melkor/Sauron | Mairon
Comments: 2
Kudos: 47





	Checked

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Silmarillion or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Melkor moves his knight across the board, following the pre-defined patterns of the elves, the creators of the game. Most of their idle diversions are trivial, dreadfully uninspired, but every so often, they come up with something that draws Mairon’s attention. He allows his master to collect his fallen pawn, removing it from the board entirely. It lands on the mattress at Melkor’s folded feet. His dark eyes flicker up, and Mairon’s flare with the familiar thrill of his watchful gaze. 

With a flick of his head, Mairon’s fire-red hair flies back over his shoulder. His delicate fingers lift to the golden clasp of his cape. He rewards his master’s victory by deftly unfastening it, and he demurely purrs, “See, now I will remove one article of clothing, for I have lost this piece to you. That is how the better game is played.”

Melkor says nothing. He watches the silken fabric slither from Mairon’s shoulders, tumbling down onto the bed, revealing more of Mairon’s slender frame. His robes still lie beneath, but they cling closer to his body—he created the most tantalizing set for just this occasion. He can’t help but smirk as his master eyes him up like a particularly tasty treat. The temptation is part of the game’s allure. 

But Melkor says, “Take it _all_ off.”

Marion’s pale lips abruptly drop into a frown. He explains, “That is not how it is done. You must win my pieces first.”

Melkor’s gaze intensifies, his eyes clouding over with _darkness_ and a black mist emits from him, clawing forward, cloying at Marion’s lungs, making it hard to breathe even though this flimsy form is only an imagining. Melkor growls again, “Take it _off_.”

Mairon’s face pinches. He disagrees, but he obeys—he _always_ obeys his Vala. He sullenly wills his clothes away, letting the fabric disintegrate from his Elven figure. He sits before his master, utterly bare, long hair tumbling down his shoulders but offering no coverage. He should be silent but still hisses beneath his breath, “You are a poor sport, Master.”

Melkor finally dons a languid grin. He muses, “Cease, my Maia. You are less pretty when you pout.”

Mairon wrinkles his nose. Melkor reaches for the board and moves his next piece, though Mairon hasn’t had a turn. Mairon finds himself grumbling, “You are not even going to fuck me now?” It’s insulting enough to be immediately stripped, but having to sit there useless when he knows his master lusts for him is near torture. Of course, Melkor does so love to torture him.

Melkor drawls, “I will fuck you after I win the game.” He moves another piece. His eyes flicker back up, and he adds, “In the meantime... I shall enjoy looking at you a little longer.”

That at least gives Mairon the excuse to preen. He joins in to move his own piece. He claims Melkor’s queen and gains nothing for it: only the knowledge that when the board is empty, he’ll be thrown across it and ravaged like he craves.


End file.
